Light Sitting in the Spill

The engine is off now, and the performance is over. You sit in the silence of your car, realizing the shame you tried to pack away in the passenger seat has spilled out everywhere.

It clings to the steering wheel. It stains your hands.

You thought you could hide it until you got home, but the mask has already fallen, and there is no box big enough to hold what you are feeling right now. The light does not ask you to clean up the mess before it enters.

It sits with you in the driver's seat, in the middle of the spill. It sees the part of you that is terrified of being found out, and it does not look away.

You do not have to scrub the interior to be worthy of this presence. The shame is not a barrier; it is just the proof that you are tired of pretending.

The light is not afraid of your overflow.